


A Russian "No"

by orphan_account



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Cultural Differences, Fluff, Happy Ending, M/M, Miscommunication, alfred is a... it's a surprise!, ivan is a fencer, olympic athlete au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-21
Updated: 2017-06-21
Packaged: 2018-11-16 20:38:17
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,908
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11260545
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: A summer olympic au in which Alfred struggles to overcome cultural differences when he tries to ask Ivan out. Based on my conversations with locals while I was in Russia.





	A Russian "No"

He couldn’t believe his luck; after a week of no sightings, the target was finally within reach. There, across the room, oh-so-sexily sipping at a cappuccino while flipping through the newspaper, was none other than Ivan Braginsky. World champion fencer. Super tall and with the most delectable muscles. Russian.

He was Alfred’s one true weakness.

Of course, he’d never met the man. But, he’d seen enough pictures and recordings of the prodigy since the Russian started catching everyone’s attention with his mysteriously chilling good looks. Alfred was ecstatic that they were finally in the same room together. Since coming to that year’s summer Olympics representing his own home country—the great U.S. of A., god bless—he’d been overwhelmed with life in the Olympic village. Sex. Sex everywhere. Not for him, of course, but many of his teammates were getting lucky every damn day. Alfred knew, however, that he wouldn’t be happy unless it was with Ivan. Hell, he didn’t even care for the sex all that much, he just wanted to talk to the guy that invaded his thoughts almost daily if only so that he could stop feeling like a creep.

On the other side of the room, Ivan was struggling to keep his cool. After all those days of wandering the city with his teammates, Alfred Jones was finally in his sights. The bubbly blond was trending ever since he dabbed during the opening parade. He had already been a social media star before then; he was a delight to behold, and Ivan hated all these band-wagoners that bothered Alfred for pictures. He’d been a die-hard fan for months before he went viral. They only loved him for his memes, but Ivan cared for more than that. While Alfred was often jocular, his political commentary was jarringly insightful. He used his social cash to fight for the little people, and Ivan was dying to meet him.

As it with most love stories, unfortunately, our two protagonists were totally ignorant idiots.

Alfred knocked back his orange juice. A bit dribbled down his chin and he cursed—he hoped Ivan hadn’t seen that!

Ivan had seen that, and was embarrassed to grow slightly aroused when Alfred’s tongue slithered out to lap up the drops.

Full of liquid confidence—vitamin C was the best!—Alfred strolled toward Ivan in what he thought was a cool manner.

Ivan thought Alfred was walking weird, but it was cute in its own way. He set down his newspaper and raised a brow.

“Yes?” he asked.

“Hey!” Alfred’s perky smile lit up the room. “I’m Alfred!”

Ivan almost said “I know”, but he didn’t want to be creepy. Instead, he reached out a hand. “I’m Ivan.”

Alfred squealed internally, but on the outside he was much more casual. He shook Ivan’s hand firmly. “Mind if I sit for a bit?”

“Of course not, feel free,” Ivan said. He prayed that his face wasn’t too red.

Alfred couldn’t even meet Ivan’s eyes, so he failed to notice the blush. “So, um you’re an athlete, right?”

Ivan’s heart dropped. He was a rather well known Olympian, and while he didn’t like all the press coverage, he had hoped at least that Alfred would recognize him. “Yes. Fencing.”

“Russia, I’m guessing,” Alfred said, pointing toward Ivan’s jacket emblazoned with “Россия”.

“That’s right,” he smiled. Alfred didn’t often talk international politics, but he’d never had a negative word toward the larger country, he’d noticed.

“Cool. I’ve never been. Where are you from?”

“Samara.”

“What’s that like?”

“It’s a large city, and very beautiful. It’s along the Volga river, and there are mountains.”

Alfred grinned. “Sounds great! I love mountains! I grew up in Denver; my brother and I were pretty into skiing. He’s actually an Olympian too, but he’s a winter guy. Plus, he traitorously claimed Canada as his homeland, so we’re enemies now,” despite his words, Alfred’s tone was light. Ivan knew for a fact that Alfred’s brother, Matthew Williams, and he were quite close.

“I have visited Denver before. I went to college in America. Indiana.”

“Oh, cool! What school?”

“University of Notre Dame.”

“Hey, go Irish! Did you like it?”

Ivan shrugged. “It was fun. I was very focused on fencing. We traveled a lot. My closest friends were my teammates because I never had time to meet other people.”

“Ah, that’s too bad. Still, I’m sure you’ve been all over! Is this your first Olympics?”

“I competed four years ago.”

“Ooh, a veteran! Yeah, this is my first. I was nervous at first, but everyone here is so cool!” he coughed into his hand, looking nervous. “Speaking of cool, you seem really swell, er, I mean, like, super nice. Do you want to get dinner sometime?”

Ivan smiled. “Thank you, but I am fine.”

Alfred seemed to deflate. “Oh… um. Okay. Sorry for bothering you.” He stood then shuffled away, feeling all types of awkward.

Ivan smiled—everything had gone perfectly! Now, all he had to do was wait; the courtship process was a long and arduous one, he’d been taught, and it wouldn’t do for him to say “yes” so quickly! That just wasn’t the Russian way. He looked forward to Alfred’s continued attempts at flirtation.

Surprisingly, the next time he saw Alfred, the blond didn’t even say hello! Ivan frowned at that—why wasn’t Alfred even trying? He went out of his way the next time, finding Alfred alone at the bar. Even after saying hello and clearly inviting a conversation, Alfred only blushed and excused himself before retreating. Ivan was steadily growing more frustrated—did this Alfred not know how to pursue someone?

After Ivan’s rejection, Alfred was not too proud to admit that he spent a few hours wailing to his roommate and teammate Kiku in their room.

“I don’t understand! Why would he say no? It was just dinner!”

“Maybe he’s not gay?” Kiku suggested.

“But we had a total connection! I thought it was going so well!”

“You could always try again.”

“No way! That’s weird. No means no, dude. I don’t want to annoy him…”

Unfortunately, Ivan _wanted_ Alfred to annoy him. However, to Alfred, such a thing would be deemed offensive and to a certain extent, kinda rapey. So, the American fought to avoid his crush, but Ivan just seemed to be everywhere.

After Ivan complained to his young teammate, Natalya, she decided to take matters into her own hands. Natalya was another gifted fencer who usually clinched the top spot in the women’s sabre bracket. She’d been in love with Ivan for years, but since he’d come out to her, she’d backed off—well, sort of.

She was a bit upset to say the least that the one person Ivan was expressing an interest in was a total idiot. She didn’t really understand the appeal of Alfred; she thought his jokes corny and his presence to be rather obnoxious—hell, even his _sport_ was laughable in her eyes—but Ivan truly was smitten.

She found Alfred lounging by the pool—well, she had to admit, despite his chosen field, he had a rather athletic body—and tapping away at his phone.

“Jones,” she said icily.

The athlete nearly dropped his phone on his face, not having heard her approach. He turned and blushed upon seeing such a lovely specimen addressing him. Many of the other athletes ignored him and his teammates, not taking their sport seriously. “Yes?” he responded.

“Why are you such an idiot?”

“Er, not sure? I hit my head a lot as a kid. Plus, I’m still in college and kinda drink a lot. Beer pong defending champ of my frat, you know. May have killed some brain cells.”

“I have no concern for your formal intelligence. Why are you not pursuing my brother?”

“Um, sorry, but who are you? And your brother?”

“I am Natalya Arlovskaya. Ivan Braginsky is my teammate and mentor. He is like my big brother, and I want what’s best for him. Again I ask, why have you not pursued him?”

“Uhh….” He began smartly. “Wait, I’m confused. I asked him out and he said ‘no’. So I backed off.”

“Why?”

“Because that’s polite? Wouldn’t you be annoyed if someone kept badgering you when you weren’t interested?”

“But he is interested.”

“Then why’d he say ‘no’?”

“Because he’s interested.”

“That doesn’t make sense.”

She sighed loudly. “It is a cultural difference. In America, ‘yes’ can mean ‘yes’, ‘maybe’, or ‘no’, and ‘no’ just means ‘no’. In Russia, ‘no’ can mean ‘no’, ‘maybe’, or ‘yes’, whereas a ‘yes’ means ‘yes’. Do you understand?”

“Not really, no.”

“Good, you do.”

“No, I meant that ‘no’ as like…. A solid, American ‘no’.”

“So you do understand, or don’t you?” she furrowed her brows.

“Um, well, I guess it kinda makes sense. So he said ‘no’ but meant ‘yes’? Isn’t that kinda confusing? Man, don’t even get me started on what that could mean when it comes to obtaining consent…”

“Shut up. The point is, you should ask him out again.”

“And he’ll say ‘yes’?”

“No,” she replied.

“Was that a Russian ‘no’ or an American ‘no’?” he asked.

“Yes,” she nodded. Then, turning, she marched away, leaving a very confused American behind her.

“Wait, what the fuck?”

* * *

Deciding to take Natalya’s cryptic advice to heart, Alfred tracked down Ivan and asked him out again.

Ivan grinned, and said “no”.

Knowing that he was on the right track, Alfred bought him a hearty bundle of roses and tried again. Ivan blushed and repeated that cursed word.

After several “accidental” run-ins and many more gifts and embarrassing attempts by Alfred, Ivan finally said ‘yes’.

Their first date was ridiculously stereotyped and cheesy, in the author’s opinion, but both were ecstatic and nearly swooning.

On the second date, Alfred decided to explain the intricacies of their cultural differences when it came to language, and they shared a few laughs.

On the third date, Ivan confessed that he knew who Alfred was all along. Alfred acted shocked for all of ten minutes before admitting that he’d been pining after the fencer for ages.

Ivan only earned a silver medal, but he hardly cared. As far as he was concerned, he’d won gold by winning Alfred’s favor.

Alfred did win gold, and he teased Ivan about it. The man only rolled his eyes and joked that ping-pong wasn’t a real sport, which often degraded into Alfred defending the “noble sport of table tennis, you damn Commie bastard”.

The unlikely couple were the talk of the media in the wake of the closing ceremony. No one expected such different personalities to clash in such a poetic fashion, but they defied all expectations. Where before Ivan was a recluse, he became a star thanks to Alfred’s numerous posts and pictures and dorky hashtags. And where before Alfred was often teased as a joke of an athlete, Ivan worked to defend his boyfriend against all the critics.

By the time his second Olympics rolled around, Alfred Braginsky clinched another gold medal. Ivan had long-since retired his épéé after winning several other world tournaments. He coached fencing at his alma mater, and while he loved his young recruits, he did detest his traveling schedule. Alfred was teaching at a local high school—his major and passion had been physics—where he also advised the Ping-Pong, er, Table Tennis Club.  

The gay Olympians lived happily ever after.


End file.
